Perfect Family
by epiphanies
Summary: Narrative by Ginny and Harry's daughter about her "perfect family." Some mature themes.


Perfect Family

by : epiphanies

Some things never change. Like a routine, a cycle that continues on into the depths of forever. Ones that seem to never cease. Like the coffee in the mornings (orange juice for the children) and the bicycle rides on Sundays. Like the broom riding lessons on Monday evenings when Daddy got home from work (except the one week Robert fell off and broke his arm, and Mummy wouldn't let us practise for a whole month.) Like blackberry pie for desert and blueberry jam at breakfast.

At dinner, with the four of us, clinking glasses, jaunty laughter. Occasional comfortable silence as we appreciated the food that Mummy and Daddy prepared together ("like a perfect family," Mummy would squeal, and Daddy would smile slightly and kiss her on the cheek.) Board game night on Tuesday, as long as Robert and I didn't have any home-work.

The days Robert and I spent home with the measles were spent in the sunny garden with Mum, helping to pick out the weeds (we begged to throw the gnomes, but Mummy said that was up to Daddy. He always procrastinated.)

-

There would be nights that we would spend with Uncle George, Mummy's brother, and we would play about castles and creatures and exploding toilets. Uncle George always told us wonderful stories about school, the one that we would attend when we turned eleven. He excited me with his stories about Hogwarts, and sometimes he would even wink at us and slip in little bits about Mummy or Daddy, only when they were younger. I could never think of them as being our age.

I asked Uncle George once, "Why are we at your house every second Friday night?" He smiled at me and said, "Because I'm a lonely blighter and I like seeing you two."

"What are Mummy and Daddy doing, then?"

"They're having a night to themselves, love," Uncle George sighed, "Like you know, when you play with Robert and there's nobody else around, you just get to be brother and sister?"

"Yes."

"That's kind of what Mummy and Daddy are doing."

Robert spoke up, "But they're not brother and sister!"

Uncle George had laughed, "No, they're not. But they love each other, just like you two do. Sometimes they just want to play, like you."

"Oh," I'd nodded, "I understand. I hope they're having fun."

And Uncle George winked again, "I'm sure they are, sweetheart."

-

When Robert and I turned eight, Daddy started acting strangely. Mummy and Daddy started yelling. About nothing, it was strange. When we woke up in the morning, Mummy would smile, but her under-eyes would be puffy. Daddy didn't laugh as much as he used to. We never had blueberry jam at breakfast anymore. I hardly saw Uncle George that year.

The weekend that Robert and I turned ten, father had to go away on work - for he was an Auror, you see, "a rather distinguished one," Mummy would say as she watched him down the steps with his suitcase, sniffing a bit. Daddy didn't kiss her goodbye.

He arrived back on the Monday without saying "Happy Birthday." He brought us back presents, a great basket of sweets, and kissed us both on the foreheads.

"How was your weekend?" he'd asked.

"Fine," Mum had answered shortly, scrubbing out a frying pan.

He asked her why she wasn't using magic, and she dropped it into the sink and ran outside. Daddy followed her and shut the door behind him.

Robert started to cry, and I kicked him.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, and he kept blubbering,

"Because Mummy and Daddy don't like each other anymore-"

"What are you talking about?"

"-and he doesn't love us anymore-"

"Why would you say that?"

"-he never even said Happy-happy birthday!"

I kicked him again and he slumped onto the floor, his shoulders shaking with cries, "Daddy is going to go away!"

I stopped short and kneeled down, "Why, Robert?"

He said in a voice, just above a whisper, "He wants us to have a new Mummy."

"What?" I gasped, and took him by the shoulders. His teary eyes avoided mine.

"Robert, shut up! Do you hear me, shut up!"

I didn't hear the door click behind me. I shook him violently,

"Robert, Mummy loves Daddy! He would never want us to have another Mummy, do you hear me? Daddy loves us and he loves Mummy, and before we know it we'll be at Uncle George's! Do you hear me, Robert, say something!"

"Rayna!" said a sharp voice from behind me. I froze and felt two hands on my shoulders, tearing me from my brother. I looked up into my mother's red eyes.

"Mummy?" I whimpered, and she grabbed me in a hug. I saw Daddy rush toward Robert.

"Why would you say something like that?" demanded Mummy as I cried into her shoulder, "Why would you speak to Robert like that?"

"He started it!" I sobbed, "He said we were going to have a new Mummy and that Daddy didn't like us anymore because he forgot our birthdays!"

"Harry," Mummy looked up and she and Daddy locked gazes. She spoke softly, "I told you that they noticed."

Daddy looked like he wanted to cry.

"I'm sorry, Jitterbugs," he said quietly, "I had a busy weekend. It was no excuse to forget your birthdays, but I did. I'm so sorry."

"What about Mummy?" Robert asked with wide eyes, "We're not getting a new one?"

"No," Daddy said softly, "No, no new Mummies, alright you two? Where would you get such an idea?"

Robert sniffled, "Because - because I was talking about the - the-"

"The yelling," I substituted for him, and he nodded.

"At school, I was talking...and then Mercia said-"

"Which one is Mercia?" Daddy demanded, and Mummy raised her eyebrows at him, "Malfoy." Daddy grimaced, "What did she say, son?"

"She said," he wiped a tear, "she said that that happened to her, and she got a new Mummy after."

Mummy and Daddy pulled us to our feet and we hugged, all four of us, like we used to before the fighting started.

"No new Mummies," Daddy promised.

"No new Daddies, either," Mummy smiled down at us, and then we all went to bed.

-

It made Robert and I happy, what Mum and Dad had said. Robert and I went off to Hogwarts the next year, and Mum sent us a jar of blueberry jam every week. She knitted sweaters for us and our friends for Christmas, and she sent me a howler when I punched a boy from Slytherin. She also wrote Robert a very rude letter in third year when he started to date Mercia Malfoy.

In fifth year, Robert stayed at the castle for Christmas so that he could stay with his new girlfriend (a much nicer girl named Shirley Thomas.) Mum and Dad didn't know I was coming home either, for I usually stayed at the castle as well. I arrived on our front door and stepped inside. In the kitchen read a note, "Harry - Out with Foster. Don't wait up! -Ginny."

I didn't understand it until I walked into the living room to see two men asleep on the couch in each other's arms. One was unmistakeably my father. The other looked strangely like Mercia Malfoy's father.

That was the end of my childhood. I picked up my bags and I took the train back to London where I stayed with my friend Louise. My parents never even knew about my two minute visit, and they still don't know. I never told Robert, and I never make a fuss when we come home to find the "perfect family" awaiting us. I'm good with blackberry pies and blueberry jam. That suits me fine. Sometimes I even see Mum and Dad share a peck on the cheek, and it makes me smile. Remembering my childhood that was lost at age fifteen.

Robert's lucky, I suppose. He'll never have to know, know about what Daddy was really doing on his "work trips." What Mummy was doing on her "girl nights." Nobody will.

Having the perfect family suits me fine.


End file.
